


Break Time

by TheLadyKing



Series: Erik's Harlem Home [1]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Other, they fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 00:29:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13775847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyKing/pseuds/TheLadyKing
Summary: He's not your man.





	Break Time

**Author's Note:**

> Listen... I love Erik so much? So I took a break from writing my series stuff and churned this out. I hope yall like it. And, as I always say for mistakes, my bad????
> 
> Also, I listened to The Lady in My Life by Michael Jackson while writing this so you can too if you like.

He’s not your man. You have to keep reminding yourself as you watch him flirt with the barista “Ashleigh, not Ashley”. And it’s not even pronounced all that differently so why correct him? But you’re not even upset.

Because he’s not your man.

“Thank you, _Ashleigh_ ,” he says, mouth quirked in that half smile you fucking hate. That’s the gotdamn smile that got you stuck with three kids in an apartment in the projects.

…

Okay, that’s not fair. You aren’t stuck with anything. You love your children, more than anything in the whole world. Those girls are your everything. And that apartment is nice as hell with all the decorating he’s helped you do. It’s home and, if you’re honest, there’s nowhere you’d rather be.

Especially right now, watching the father of your children flirt with _Ashleigh_ , the barista.

You grumble and stalk off out the Starbucks, ready to be home already. Your parents are taking the kids out to the movies and you’d love to take the time to just de-stress, work has been killer, and it feels like you haven’t had a moment to yourself in… well 12 years.

You take a deep breath and let it out, the tension leaving you as quickly as it’d come. That isn’t fair either. You’ve had time to yourself, your parents help when they can and Erik loves taking the girls off your hands. You’re just upset and maybe not thinking clearly.

You begin walking in the direction of your apartment, silently taking in the changed features of your neighborhood. It makes your chest tight to remember all the old mom and pop shops that have disappeared. The pizzeria on the corner where you got your first job, is gone and replaced with a Duane Reade. The Associated Grocery is still open, thank goodness, and Mount Sanaii hospital where your parents had you and you had the girls still stands across the street.

But sometimes it feels like even the sky, bright and blue right now, has changed along with the times. And maybe that’s progress? Doesn’t feel like it, but what do you really even know about that type of thing besides what Erik tells you when he goes off on one of his spiels.

Your friends call him a ‘hotep’ and send you memes tagged: Shit Erik Would Say.

You chuckle at the thought, stopping at the corner with your iced coffee in hand. You take a sip as you wait for the traffic light to change and the flow of cars heading wherever to pause so you can cross over to your block. The shock of sweetness hits your tongue and makes you widen your eyes. He always tells them to make yours extra sweet though you haven’t liked your coffee like that since at least two kids ago.

The light changes and you’re crossing the street, feeling more relaxed now as you think of back when Erik used to run corner store coffees to you at your previous security job. Him trekking with Kadija and Camil down to that old office building on 42nd Street. You can remember the bottom being completely packed with sugar, coarse granules hitting your tongue at each smooth sip.

He loved you back then, at least you’re pretty sure he did. The way he’d look at you and kiss the sweetness from your mouth while the girls groaned and turned away.

You hit the block and shake the memories from your mind. No need to go back there. That time is long over and you’re lucky that he’s stuck around despite everything. Well, maybe not lucky exactly, he should be with his children, that’s a given. But some girls don’t even get that, you remind yourself.

So, what? Maybe he isn’t your man, but he still takes care of you. Buys you coffee sweet enough to put you into shock when he knows you’ve been having a hard time. Sets up evenings out so you have time and space to breath.

So, he’s not your man anymore. But _god_ , does it sting.

“You done thinking?” Erik asks, coming up to your side. You snort and roll your eyes.

“How long you been following me, stalker?”

“Forever,” he says in that way of his. It’s genuine and _it hurts_ and you hate him for it. But if he ever stopped you’re not sure what you’d do.

“I’m done,” you say, taking another sip of your coffee as you eye him. He’s smiling, hair still in the braids you’d put them in the other day. He needs to get a trim on the sides, the hair there grows in fast, but otherwise, he’s well put together. Wearing a red tracksuit and a jean jacket, looking exactly like he did when you first met him.

You wonder if you look the same in his eyes.

“Nour was telling me about her school project, you get the ketchup stains off the ceiling yet?” he asks, still walking slowly beside you as the two of you make your way up the steps leading to your apartment.

You shake your head.

“Want me to come up and clean it?” he asks, that half smile back in place as you pull your ring of keys from your purse. You shrug, twisting the key just as he pulls.

“If you want to clean it, be my guest,” you tease, heading to check your mailbox as he goes to press for the elevator. It’s an old dance, one started just after Kadija was born and you’d gotten approved to move here. Erik hadn’t been on your lease then, still isn’t, but he’d come with you just like everything else from your parent’s place did.

“She was so excited about the whole thing, I didn’t want to say no. Kadi and Camil helped too,” you say, looking through the small stack of bills in your hands. You tighten your jaw and sigh when you see the past due stamp on the last one. You look up, catching his eye quickly before shoving them all into your purse.

It’s nothing you can’t handle, and you don’t want him worrying.

The two of you get into the elevator, thankful it doesn’t smell like piss, and take it up to the sixteenth floor where your apartment is. Together you both shuffle out and into the hall, the tension climbing as you walk to the door, like a rubber band pulled too taut and ready to snap.

You hold the door open for him, smiling as he steps in and letting it shut behind him. You press your front against it for a moment, letting out a breath before turning back to face him as he stands watching you.

“Yes?” you ask.

Erik grins and pulls his jacket off his shoulders, the track jacket coming off with it, leaving him in a clean white tee. “Lock the door,” he says, orders, as he puts them in the hall closet. You nod slowly and lock the top and bottom lock, your hands shaking as you do.

You turn back around and shutter out a breath when you catch his eyes, they’re bright now, even more than usual, and you can feel your panties soak at the thought of what that means.

“Go get in the shower. I’m going to clean the ketchup,” he says, stepping out of the hall and into the kitchen just off to the side. You place your purse down on an end table as you step quickly through the living room, throwing your jacket onto the love seat as you go.

In your bedroom you strip out of your clothes as quick as you can, your nipples tightening as they meet the cool air. Once in the bathroom you quickly set the heat high and step in, relaxing as the stream hits your back. Outside the small window, you can see the Starbucks and laugh quietly to yourself as you think about Ashleigh and your hot jealousy.

He may not be your man, he may never be your man again, but he’ll always be yours.

“You decent?” Erik asks as he steps into the bathroom. You peak past the curtain and smile coyly, shaking your head as you watch him slip out of his pants and socks. He’s already bare-chested and it makes your heart thump rapidly as you catch sight of his scars. They’ve always been so beautiful to you though he’s never explained exactly what they mean, at least not to you.

You’ve googled it but the thought of Erik having that many _bodies_ under his belt seems farfetched. He’s rough when he has to be, but you know him. He’s a good man. The best you’ve ever known.

Erik pulls the curtain from your grasp and steps in front of you, placing his hands on your hips when he puts it back in place. The stream of water beats against your spine as he trails his hands up and down your sides and gives you a soft peck on the lips. He trails his lips along your cheeks, the corners of your eyes, until finally they reach your forehead and stay there.

You sigh out, content, before pulling back and taking him with you, to stand under the spray of water. He hisses at the heat before easing into your arms, wrapped around his thick center. And you love it, the press of him against you.

“I love you,” he says into the wet curls of your hair. You nod and place a kiss against his chest, you can feel his heart beating hard right under the skin. You flick out a tongue and trace the ridges of his scars, then circle it around his pretty brown nipples.

“I love you too,” you whisper before biting down on him, hard. You want to mark him too. Place his body under your belt and keep him there forever.

He scoops you in his arms with ease, making you giggle and then moan as his lips meet yours in a heated kiss. His tongue pressing wetly against yours and it gets your pussy, which was certainly already wet, soaking.

“Fuck me, please, N’Jadaka,” you pant, beg, when he finally pulls away. The heat of the shower and the kiss and him, _always just him_ , making your head rush with lust.

He smiles, grinning the way you love, and places you up against the wall, his back blocking most of the spray as he situates himself at your entrance. You whine, you want it so bad, and buck your hips as you try to get him inside.

“I love you,” he says again, slipping deep inside you with one sharp thrust. Your toes curl tight and you throw your head back, not caring if you bust it open on the tiles. But he’s, Erik, is so sweet and mindful and _fuck him cause he’s always been that way_ , has his hand already pressed there, cradling your skull as he pumps slow into you.

You whimper at each stroke, slow and deliberate as they are, and feel yourself tearing up when you feel him pressing hot kisses against your throat.

“Erik,” you sigh as his pulls out and then presses slowly back in. He’s digging you out, and your love it so much. So so much.

“Fuck,” he grunts as you bring your hands down to scratch at his back, trying to be mindful of his scars but also not giving a _fuck_ because he’s in you so fucking deep and sucking on your nipples like they’re his lifeline and you can feel yourself climbing that gotdamn mountain and all you want to do, all you want is to just get there and bring him with you.

And fuck, it feels so good. Like the first time he fucked you in your mama’s house, the lights on so he could see you while he made you scream and cum on his lips and then fingers and then...

“Stop thinking,” he orders, biting your ear and quickening his pace. You shutter and stiffen, taking him and all that he gives. You’re blubbering out a mess of words and the water is beginning to cool off but it doesn’t matter because then he’s pressing a finger to your clit and everything is gone and it’s just him and you and that mountain.

 

You smile softly when you open your eyes, you’re in bed now and Erik is holding you while the tv plays a rerun of Living Single in the background. He looks away from the tv when you press a kiss against his chest and snuggle into him.

“I always thought you were more like Maxine,” he says, kissing the top of your head as you try to dig your way inside of him.

“Max?” you ask, yawning. He nods and leans back into the bed, pulling you on top of him.

“Maybe a mix of her and Khadijah. Also a little Sinclair,” he goes on.

You wrinkle your nose. “No Regine?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe with her style? But personality? Nah,” he says, looking deep into your eyes. You stare back, feeling broken open and bare before him.

“What are you thinking?” you ask, kissing the mark you’ve left on his chest.

“When you gon give me another baby?” he asks, smiling. You roll your eyes and smack at him playfully.

“You not even my man,” you say.

He raises his brow and pulls your up to look at him eye to eye. “Someone else been making you cum til you pass out?” he questions, his hands slipping to grab a handful of your ample bottom.

“No.”

“Someone else been taking care of Kadija, Camil, and Nour with you?”

You shake your head.

“Anyone else love you like I do?” he asks, kissing your nose. You laugh and shake your head again.

“I’m yours then. I’m always gon be yours,” he says finally, pulling you into another heated kiss. The two of you stop as you hear the apartment door open and then slam shut. The pitter patter of small feet rushing towards your bedroom door.

“Mama! Kadi and Cam are being mean!” Nour yells on the other side of the door. The two of you chuckle and part. Your break over.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me some reviews if you're nasty... or just if you want to.


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